Shades of Blue and Grey
by TMNT Redneck
Summary: Final rewrite of 'The Brothers' War'. See A/N for info on that. 1861-1865, The American Civil War. 'The devils have retired for the night. Lord, how we welcome the respite from their heavy fire. Let us all hope that the morrow brings better luck, and that we are delivered safely from this war.' Humanized. AU. Rating subject to change.
1. Prologue: The Widower

_**A/N: This will be the third rewrite of this story. I know, I need to suck it up and get the darn thing done. I know those of you that liked the most recent version were really hoping form e to continue, but here I am. Hopefully this one will be better written with more detail and far better character development. In it, we'll see a few of our favorite characters from the last, but this one will be a tad darker, a bit more intense, and we'll see sides of those characters we never knew before. Please join me, as we **__**finally**__** get this story told in its entirety. I'll try my hardest to update this several times a week. Hope you enjoy**_

_**~ Lonestar**_

* * *

The slow, solemn procession of black-clad mourners walked slowly to the small cemetery. The grieving widower stood apart, head bowed.

_He flew down the stairs, cold fear spreading through his body. Pausing only to snatch his heavy greatcoat, the man sprinted out into the storm. Already the dirt roads had churned into a muddy torrent. His mare breathed heavily, eyes rolling in panic as she slid in the sloshing mud. Leonardo whipped her harder, blinking rain out of his eyes as he strained to discern the ruined road from the depths of the forest. His wife was in grave danger, and her horrific, ear-splitting screams echoed hauntingly in his ears._

_The mare shrieked when her footing gave out, and she was sent thrashing into belly deep mud. The mare floundered in panic, and Leonardo whipped her mercilessly in an attempt to urge her onward. Leonardo screamed, on the verge of sobbing hysterically, and leapt from the saddle. Running as fast as his legs would carry him through the storm, Leonardo fought his way onward. Doc Cambridge's house was only another mile away, only another mile. This thought flew through Leonardo's head with the speed of his gasping breaths. The thick mud swallowed his legs to the calf, sucking at his boots and weighing him down, but he had yet to discover a hole like the one that swallowed his horse._

_When, through the sheets of rain and swaying tree limbs, he spied the single lantern above the doctor's door, he sobbed in relief and ran faster. He started calling for the doctor halfway across the yard, ignoring the prying gaze of slaves in their quarters. Taking the porch steps in a single, grand leap Leonardo began assaulting the rich oaken door with a heavy fist, yelling at the top of his lungs._

_"Doc! Get out here, Doc! Please! Doc Cambridge, she needs your help!"_

_After the first onslaught of knocks, Leonardo collapsed, exhausted, and screamed. The door opened and Doc Cambridge hurried out silently, and ten minutes later the pair were thundering down the treacherous trace. Leonardo led, imagining that he could already hear his wife's anguished cries._

_The expensive woven rugs made by his mother-in-law were ruined with the mud and rainwater that the men tracked in, and further soiled by Leonardo's incessant pacing. His heart cracked more and more with each shriek that emanated from the upstairs bedroom, and the thoughts racing frantically through his mind did little to put him at ease. Just before dawn, the screams abruptly stopped. Leonardo's heart fell and he froze, listening intently for any other sound._

_He took the stairs by twos and by threes, scrambling to right himself at the top landing, and slammed into the bedroom door bodily. Cambridge didn't flinch as the door swung open, and didn't turn from his place by the window. He looked every one and more of his forty-four years, and heavy purple bags were under his tired eyes._

_"She's given out, Leonardo," the weary man declared. "She was too weak."_

_Leonardo's throat tightened, and he felt his life ending as tears spilled hotly down his cheeks. He approached the bed, it's sheets and covers in disarray and stained thickly with dark blood. His wife lay in the center, milk-white against the stained sheets with a halo of tangled, unwashed hair fanning out from her empty face. Leonardo collapsed beside her still form, and sobbed silently for a moment before looking up past the bed. A beautiful walnut bassinet mocking him from its place. WIth an angry growl, Leonardo stalked toward the object. That entire last winter of hard work was all for not. He was ready to destroy the object, ready to do away with the memory of it, when a tiny form swaddled inside drew his attention._

_"A girl," Cambridge informed him, taking up a position opposite her sleeping place. "But due to her weakness, I fear she will not make noon. I am truly sorry, Leonardo."_

The baby had died before noon. Leonardo continued to pace the parlor of the once happy home with her in his arms until a quarter till one. The funeral he now attended took place three days after their death, when the ground had sufficiently dried. While people gathered around, offering condolences, Leonardo plotted his escape. The little cabin in the mountains was no longer any sort of home.

Before nightfall, Leonardo had made his leave. He rode a stupid, stubborn ass that a neighbor had given him on learning that his mare had been shot. Behind him was the charred shell of his old home.

* * *

The bar was dark and reeked of stale liquor, tobacco juice, vomit, and piss. The barmaids had long since learned to stay out of his way. He didn't want to see them, and any offer to take him upstairs was met with a loud, angry outburst. At midnight, he was escorted out of the bar with the order to go home and sober up, something that he most certainly didn't take to heart. Instead, Brian O'Connor wandered the streets of Winchester. He stumbled blindly by stores, businesses, and bars. Few people were on the streets this late, and those that were were typically drunkards like himself. The Irishman felt the urgent need to piss, but knew from experience that doing so on the public streets would have him arrested and tossed into jail for a day or so. In his urgency to get into the shadows, he ran into another man.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, unaware that his fate would be entwined with that of the dark man's


	2. One: Brethren, Kinsmen

_**A/N: With a special thanks to those who've read and reviewed, I bring chapter 2. Please enjoy, and tell me what you think. **_

_**Ach! When I first posted this, I was so anxious to see it up that in my editing a cut out a few places here and there. I've tried to fix it, but if there are any other such mistakes please let me know so that they can be fixed. **_

* * *

**Chapter One: Brethren, Kinsmen**

The cool press of a wet cloth on his forehead woke O'Connor from a deep, liquor induced sleep. His head was roaring with pain, but the man just gave a small groan as he opened his eyes. His sun-kissed little wife stood over him, a scowl marring her features. She gave him a disappointed sigh and wet the cloth again. O'Connor pulled himself into a sitting position, finding himself on a spare cot in his three-roomed house.

"You were carted home again last night. Deputy says if he catches you drunk in the streets again he'll lock you up." The musical Spanish lilt of her voice was something that O'Connor had always found alluring, but now it only brought the mind the reason for his binge. "Why do you do it?"

O'Connor growled at the little woman and waved her away, throwing his legs over the side of the cot to stand. He smelled, with a small level of revulsion in his hungover state of being, fresh tortillas and other fixins his wife had made for breakfast. The girl brought a platter to him with a cup of rich black coffee and, after some resistance, got him to eat.

"What'm I supposed to do, Maria?" O'Connor grumbled around a mouthful of scrambled egg and hog brains."Me own father's disowned me, and vowed to kill me if I ever show my ugly mug 'round his place again."

Maria adopted a cross look. "You're a bit old to be worried about what your father has to say about your life."

"So speaketh the woman."

Maria shook her head and turned her luminous eyes toward the cracked mirror hanging on the far wall. Her hair was thick and black, pinned elegantly to her head. Maria knew that her husband would never make amends with his father, not while she was his wife. The elder O'Connor bore a deep hatred for Mexicans after fighting against them in '36, and again with his son from '46 to '48. While the man's feelings weren't entirely without reason, he seemed to conveniently forget the Tejanos who charged the decisive plains of San Jacinto by his side.

"You weren't planning on returning to Texas anyways," Maria reminded her husband.

"Gah!" O'Connor shouted, spinning the woman around to face him, face coloring dark red. "Do you not understand, woman?! My own father revoked my honor, branded me with the name of traitor, scoundrel, scum! He accused you of being the bastard wench of a whore and a tyrant!"

Maria didn't need to be reminded of the hateful letters the pair had been exchanging since the marriage, but offered no reply to her fuming husband. Maria was a well bred lady, and well bred ladies could take an insult with grace and dignity.

Staggering from his hangover, O'Connor stamped his way out the door and toward town. Maria watched him leave sadly for a spell before she heard the crying of their year old son, and lifted him from the rude cradle the O'Connor had fashioned from an old drawer. Alone but for the child, Maria padded barefoot out into the yard and started the day's chores.

* * *

George Nells had never been an overly rich man, but he knew how to play his cards right. As a youth, he appealed himself to a wealthier family and wooed their pretty little daughter. Her dowry bought five and a half acres of good land nestled in the fertile hills outside of Winchester, Virginia. When his best hunting dog sired a litter of pups with a wolfdog, he raised them as bear dogs and sold them to hunters, and continued to breed his pair. The money from this built a small cabin in which the Nells started their family. Farming his little patch of land, George Nells continued to prove himself a proud businessman. His wife bore six pretty daughters, all of which grew into beautiful and sought after young women. Marrying them off to wealthy young dandies who's fathers grew cotton, tobacco, or owned banks and businesses, George continued to prosper. The only thing keeping him from being an extremely rich man was George's simplicity. He gambled and drank a little too much, delighted in the strangest of sports, and was always overly generous with what money he had. If anyone wanted or needed anything, Georgie would be the one to drop everything to help them out. He was used by many, but only recognized his actions as doing the other a world of good.

Relying now on his friend's generosity, Leonardo reined the mule in just outside of George's house, calling a loud hallo to anyone who would hear. George peeked out of his little home with a glare that softened only slightly on seeing his company.

"Lee Ham?" Leo nodded with a small, tight smile at his nickname. "So you've finally decided to come crawlin' back to ol' Georgie Nells. What got you in the wrong this time, Lee?"

For reasons unknown, George had developed a sore spot for Leonardo after losing a game of poker one night. He had somehow realized how he never seemed to be any richer despite his dealings, and laid the blame on his best friend for his misfortune. Now the old coot was too confused to remember exactly what had prompted his anger, but knew that somehow he had placed it on Lee Ham.

"Georgie, how often do we have to go through this?" Leo asked, accustomed to the strange man's ways. "I said I was sorry for takin' those two hens, and I've been guilty about it for weeks."

There was always a different story Leonardo had to bring up, some new fable to unfold so that his absent-minded friend could feel like he had power over more than a couple of ancient dogs and a portly wife. George's irritated expression vanished, replaced with one of intense concentration.

"So you admit it then..." He looked up at Leo with a slight smile. "Well... I guess it ain't no harm. All's forgiven, Lee. C'mon inside and set a spell while the missus cooks us some supper. Tell ol' Georgie Nells what's on your mind, an' why you ain't got that pretty little gal hangin' off your arm."

Sharing a cup of coffee with his old friend, Leonardo told of his wife's passing. The Nells' were saddened to hear of the loss, both being quite fond of the young lady. Changing topics, George spoke in conspiratorial tones about the boiling tensions between the north and south. George was eager for the war. Leonardo was not.

"I never got used to Mexico, Georgie. I don't want to see my own home torn apart now," the widower confided, setting his empty coffee mug on the table. George gave an exasperated sigh, and shook his balding head.

"Now, Lee, that's exactly why you've got to fight! Can't have them invaders a'tearin' up the country. We've gotta keep 'em off southern soil."

Leonardo remained silent, pondering on what a war would bring. His remaining family, to whom he hadn't spoken in years, lived in New York. It was his birthplace, his first home. But after seven years in Virginia, Leonardo was finding it hard to imagine what it was like to live up north again. The rich, verdant hills seemed more home to him than any place else. The crucial time was now, Leo imagined. His fate would be decided when the war broke out, when he chose who and what to fight for.

"Lee," George leaned in toward his friend, "you know President Lincoln's gonna raise. They'll be invadin'. There's no stoppin' the inevitable. You've gotta decide where your loyalties lie before it's too late."

* * *

The Hamato family had owned the stead since before the brothers were born. The house was huge, with a grand parlor, five bedrooms, a study, and a separate kitchen. With frozen rain tapping at the windowsill of the study, three children gathered closely around their grandfather. He spun a marvelous tale of knights and ladies, of realms far beyond the sea, in a time of magic and romance. Julia Edwards, the only girl of the trio, clutched a purple-clad doll in her arms as she stared enthralled up at her seemingly ancient grandfather.

'Splinter', as he was called by most, was actually only fifty-six; but years of hardship and heartbreak had taken their toll on his features. He eyed his only granddaughter with twinkling eyes as he told his story. The boys had their fun tussling in the yard, but Julia played by herself, with the little doll. Her mother was with child now, and the little girl hoped desperately for a baby sister.

"Julia!" The dark-headed child leapt to her feet and scrambled at her father's call, crying a hasty goodbye.

He had promised to take her into town today, for the first time ever. Scurrying into the parlor, she almost ran head first into her dad. Michelangelo looked down at the girl with a broad grin and hauled her to her feet. The only resemblance she bore to him was her massive blue eyes that dominated her face. Michelangelo was immensely proud of the little girl, arguably even more so than her own mother.

"Is mama coming?" Julia asked hopefully.

"Of course I am, Jule," came the soft reply from her mother, Delores, as she descended the staircase that led to their bedroom.

Delores was a beauty in her own right, with her daughter's same dark curls and fair skin. The green maternity dress she wore brought out the bright emerald hue of her eyes. Extending and arm to her and to his little daughter, Michelangelo led them out into the cold. He and Donatello had hitched the family's closed wagon, and now the proud father opened the door to his ladies and beckoned them inside before driving them to town.

Donatello watched from the barn. He envied Michelangelo with the little family of his own, but hid this feeling well. When the carriage disappeared from sight he turned back into the warm barn and walked leisurely down the center aisle. Several horses filled the stalls to either side, and their warm breaths and the heat of their bodies kept the cold at bay. In the back of the barn was Don's dapple mare. The man saddled her apprehensively, working quickly with uncharacteristic rough, jerking movements that the mare didn't appreciate.

This evening he was dining with Miss Elizabeth Daydre, an Englishwoman he had met the year before when she first arrived in America. After the meal, when Mr. Daydre would be smoking a fat cigar in the comfort of his lavish home, Donatello would ask for his daughter's hand. With nervousness thrumming in his belly like a swarm of wasps, Donatello led the mare out of the barn and mounted before spurring her eastward. The bitter wind and stinging ice crystals blurred Don's vision and tugged at his hat but did not deter him from his course. Through the gloom he spied another rider, and pulled his mare to a halt. The man who rode up was brawny and his dark face set in a permanent scowl. Donatello immediately recognized his older brother.

"Raph," Don tipped his hat.

The scowl broke into a smirk. "Hey Don. How's everybody?"

Don returned the smile and tried to keep the conversation light, but felt a gnawing uneasiness."They're all good. Splinter's telling the boys about King Arthur if you want to catch the tail end of that."

"I think I will," Raph grinned, eager to see his boys again. Before he could spur his stallion in the direction of the house Don caught his arm.

"Father'll want a word with you, you know."

Raphael's face darkened but he didn't argue. The brothers parted ways.

* * *

_**A/N: For those of you enjoying the story so far, I ask that you please review. I never start writing the next chapter until the first review rolls in :) (bad habit though that may be)**_


	3. Two: War Brewing

**Two: War Brewing**

It stormed horribly that day, but the boy was not deterred. Rain poured in sheets all around, spilled off his wide-brimmed hat and down his shirt. He was chilled to the bone and his teeth rattled in his small mouth, but he kept his eyes forward, regularly blinking out and clearing his vision from the rivulets of water streaming down his face. Determination was a family trait.

* * *

Leonardo and George were silent and grim, the latter clutching tightly to the wooden seat beneath him as he struggled with his inner self to not look down. The wagon jostled treacherously through the passes. It would rain later, but hopefully would hold off until the pair returned from their mission. Leonardo had been staying with George and his wife throughout the winter, and more than ever had been keeping up with the raging politics. South Carolina seceded from the Union the past December, followed in January and February by Texas, Mississippi, Georgia, Alabama, and Louisiana. On January 9, 1861, Fort Sumter was fired upon by South Carolina artillery; and on April 15, President Lincoln raised 75,000 troops to put down the rebellion.

It was July, and staring at the threatening thunder-boomers gathering on the horizon, Leonardo was driving himself and George into Winchester to join the Confederate Army. George closed his eyes tightly and muttered prayers under his breath, his voice rising to a yell when the wagon tipped a bit to one side. Leo laughed and shoved his friend playfully, the sour mood broken by George's antics.

"Now Georgie, do you not trust me? If you'd rather drive us through the mountains-" a dip in the road cut off his jest, but only briefly did he pause," -then go right ahead. I'll pull us over and we'll trade spots."

"No, dad-blame it!" George cried, startlingly pale, "keep your eyes on the road, Lee!"

Leonardo laughed again merrily, "George, George, George, now where's the bravado that filled your heart and soul just an hour ago? Where's the man who vowed to march the Yankees back to Washington or to hell?"

The road turned steep at that instant, and the wagon seemed to drop into oblivion with the horses scrambling to keep from being hit. Both men let out a startled yell that was cut off when the wagon slammed to a halt at the bottom of the hill. Both men panted, adrenaline coursing through their blood, and looked at one another. On seeing the other's pale and frightened face, the men broke out into a chuckle that grew into hysterical laughter that neither could stop. Clutching his sides, Leonardo lightly slapped the horses' flanks.

"Guess- hehe-you ain't got much room to talk about bravado, Lee," George chuckled.

"Haha, I reckon not, Georgie. Ah well, we'll harden up soon enough- then that little drop'll seem like a hay ride!"

Their giggles died out when the first buildings of Winchester came into view, and their jovial mood was replaced with one of quiet contemplation. The proximity of their destination, combined with the knowledge of their mission, made the war seem utterly real and looming like the storm clouds on the horizon.

* * *

When Raphael had arrived home that blustery December day, Splinter's story ended abruptly. The boys ran to greet their father, and Splinter stared solemnly at his second-oldest son until he released the boys. Sensing something amiss, the two young lads excused themselves to go play in the snow, with their mother calling from the kitchen to make sure they were all bundled up. Alone, father and son stared each other down.

"You've been gone for a week, Raphael," Splinter stated lowly.

"So I was."

Splinter heaved a deep sigh and began pacing. "You have a responsibility here, Raphael. Why do you insist on behaving this way?"

"I'm not the only one doing it," Raph mumbled darkly. Splinter's eyes flashed angrily, but he had no excuse for his eldest's disappearance. Raph changed the subject to one that he had been contemplating for the entire ride home. "South Carolina seceded last week."

Splinter growled. "And I suppose you wish to whip them back into the Union?"

"They have no right to tear the country apart!" Raph yelled.

"They have every right," Splinter countered evenly.

Raphael was forced to remember the tedious hours of studying that Splinter put them through as children. The Constitution had been one of the things severely drilled into their little heads. The man looked up with dark certainty.

"When the president raises an army to bring back those traitors," he declared," I'll be one of the first to join."

"Raphael! Do you not remember the last war you fought? Do you not recall the countless hours of shells screaming over your head, the long marches through hostile territory? You would wish that upon yourself again?"

"Yes I would!" Raphael screamed.

Splinter shook his head slowly. "My son, you are too eager for war. What will become of you? Will your sons grow up without a father? Will your wife be made a widow? I fear for your safety, for your brothers' safety."

"The others aren't going," Raph grumbled.

"Yes, Raphael. They are. They will follow you, as they did into Mexico. And it will all be the same. Who will I lose to this war?"

Raphael froze at the intended accusation. With a low growl he stalked out of the room ad slammed the door, leaving his father alone.

"Raphael?" "I gotta go, Elvie," Raph brushed his wife away as he pulled on his heavy overcoat.

Elve-Anna was meek as a lamb, too meek to question her husband's actions or intentions. "Stay long enough for supper," she pleaded.

"Pack me somethin'."

"I will," Elvie consented quietly, hanging her head as she walked pack into the kitchen.

* * *

With his father's hatred and insults festering in his mind, Brian O'Connor found himself waiting in the long line to get enlisted in Winchester. The stains on his honor had to be purged, with his own blood if necessary. All down the family line, no O'Connor could take the insult of being dubbed a traitor. And so as he stood there, some men behind an old fart who kept complaining about the impeding storm and the ride back through the mountains, this O'Connor organized his thoughts. Freedom from tyranny, from an unjust government; they were worthy causes. To fight for his new home would clean his conscience, and prove to himself that his father's words weren't true.

Hours later a man performed a brief physical on O'Connor. His teeth and eyes were checked, he was made to jump, and was thumped several times hard in the chest and back. The physician pronounced him fit for service, and he was soon moved on to sign his name for enlistment in the 1st Virginia Cavalry. As he did so, a man asked if he was well enough equipped.

"Yes, but for a uniform I suppose," O'Connor replied, eyeing the roster. O'Connor didn't recognize a single name, but read over some like Paul Smithers, a John Jones, and a Lee Brown.

* * *

"Really, George- Lee Brown? What kind of name is that?" Leonardo asked smiling as he and George drove back to the latter's home.

"What kind of name?" George repeated, feigning insult. "Well what kind of name is Lee Ham for an officer?"

"I'm no officer, Georgie Nells," Leonardo said for the third time, though the notion was becoming more and more appealing with each mentioning.

"I'm not sayin' you are now, Lee, I'm telling you about what you're gonna be! Folks'll be callin' you 'Colonel' or 'Gen'ral' 'fore you know it."

Leonardo laughed good naturedly with his friend, but couldn't help but picture himself in a officer's uniform.

"And you know" George started again, "if you'll be ridin' with Stuart, you need something better than that stupid mule you rode in on. No, Lee, you'll need a fine horse to join the cavalry."

"Not all of us can be foot soldiers like you, George," Leo stated casually, though he was mentally berating himself for being so stupid. Of course he needed a horse...

"Don't you worry, Lee," George smiled as if reading his friend's thoughts. "Georgie Nells'll take good care of you."

* * *

_**A/N- There's chapter three for you guys, hope you enjoyed. For those of you who know the story, you may start to recognize the person who had a brief cameo at the very beginning. You'll all know him soon enough. A lot of this is from the original telling of the story, just thought I'd share that tidbit. For those of you looking for the action and plot, I promise you'll find it before long. Till then, g'day, and please review!**_


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